


Beyond Imagining

by dk323



Category: Dark Is Rising Sequence - Susan Cooper, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, M/M, Multiple Worlds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dk323/pseuds/dk323
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Merlin/The Dark Is Rising crossover<br/>Shortly after Merlin reveals his magic to him, Arthur discovers that Merlin’s very existence is being threatened by a malevolent, troubling force.<br/>Eighteen years after the final battle, Will Stanton must once again fight the forces of the Dark. This time, the Dark has gained a troubling new ally leaving Will to seek help from a former enemy of the Light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond Imagining

**Author's Note:**

> I had begun working on this story last year for a challenge, but I have had to rethink certain elements of the story. This fic combines two of my favorite universes -- the worlds of BBC's Merlin and The Dark Is Rising Sequence. The story's a work in progress at the moment, but I do have some more written after this first chapter. I hope you enjoy reading.

**Prologue:**

Only a few days ago, Merlin had never imagined that he’d be in this position. To think he’d been so worried about confiding in Arthur about his magic. Now he was fighting for his very existence. And while he trusted Arthur to defend him and help him when the need called for it, Merlin felt doubtful that Arthur would succeed in saving him. In preventing Merlin from being forgotten by the world, gone forever, and not a soul would remember him.

After all, Arthur didn’t possess magic, and a lot of the times he succeeded it was with Merlin by his side.

He hated that he lacked faith in Arthur, but he couldn’t deny it. Despite that, more than anything, he wished he was back in Camelot with his King.

But his wish wasn’t going to come true any time soon, so he contented himself with this investigation a man named Will Stanton had asked him to do.

He needed to see if Will’s childhood friend had died by accident or if he had been murdered. Will understandably couldn’t do it himself as witnessing his friend’s death was a moment he shouldn’t be forced to see. Merlin knew that he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Arthur die…a part of him would die with the King.

So he waited on the side of the mountain, watching raindrops come down and go right through him as he was only an invisible spirit in this place and time. Although as the rain came down harder and harder, Merlin questioned why he was here at all. What person would come outside in this terrible weather?

Then his question was answered when a pale boy looking desperately unhappy climbed up on to the mountain ledge. He roughly wiped at his face with a dark sleeve, indicating he had been crying.

Emotions could be a dangerous element, causing people to do things they otherwise would be wary not to do.

The boy was so young, only thirteen. That’s what Will had told him.

Merlin wanted to warn him, to tell the boy of what was to happen. But he was doomed to be an observer in this time. He had seen how deeply affected Will still was at his friend’s death, and yet, this event couldn’t be altered. It wasn’t like Arthur going to protect his father to ensure Merlin’s existence, to undo the Dark’s plans.

No. This boy’s untimely death was set in unforgiving stone.

~ * ~

Merlin was ready. Today would be the day he would tell Arthur about his magic.

Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself before entering Arthur’s chambers. He could do this. He had the courage to follow through, to do the one thing he had been dreading for years. Yet he’d been so anxious about confiding in Arthur that he had even allowed Mordred, of all people, to give him words of advice. Surprisingly, Mordred had been helpful, a welcome supporter and confidante in Merlin’s formidable task.

Formidable since just three simple words, “I have magic,” to Arthur’s face left Merlin in a state of panic.

He would be destroying his friendship with Arthur and forcing his King to make the difficult decision of condemning his long-time friend. How could he be that cruel to Arthur?

Mordred had told him though that in a way, he was already being cruel to Arthur by not telling him about the most integral part of himself – his magic. He was denying Arthur the chance to see Merlin as he truly was, as he was born to be. A human who possessed magic.

And it wouldn’t be fair to Arthur if he didn’t get the opportunity to know Merlin for who he truly was. Merlin hoped that Mordred was right about trusting in his friendship with Arthur, that surely the King wouldn’t kill him. Surely the strength of their bond would be enough to prevent Arthur immediately calling for his execution.

He raised his hand and knocked on Arthur’s door. In his preoccupation, Merlin barely noticed the tips of his fingers fading away. Yet he waved it off as his mind conjuring false images amidst his high state of trepidation.

Not now, he thought. He had to get through this first and survive the encounter.

“Come in,” Arthur beckoned him.

Merlin did so, clasping his hands together, his eyes to the floor.

“I’m surprised, Merlin, that you knocked. You rarely do,” Arthur remarked in his usual dry tone. He was seated in his fur throw chair, watching the flames flicker and dance in the hearth.

“I need to tell you something, Arthur. Something important.”

Arthur shifted his gaze from the fireplace up to Merlin’s face. He looked at Merlin oddly. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“There’s something about me that I should have told you a long time ago. I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you. And I’m sorry about that.”

“What is it, Merlin? Spit it out.”

Merlin unclasped his hands, dropping them to his sides. He felt exposed.

“Arthur, I…”

Merlin was surprised when Arthur interrupted, “Merlin, what on Earth are you doing to yourself?”

“What? I don’t…?”

Then he looked toward where Arthur was directing his gaze. To Merlin’s hands.

Or what was left of them. Merlin was alarmed when he saw that his fingers on both hands had faded away. Only his palm remained, looking strange without fingers.

“I’m…disappearing. I don’t know why,” Merlin said, at a loss.

“Is this what you wanted to tell me? You’ve finally had enough of me and now you’re fading away? What sorcerer made this happen?”

“No. No! This isn’t it, Arthur. I don’t want to disappear. I came here to tell you that I have magic,” Merlin said the last part so quickly, that he wished Arthur hadn’t caught the words.

“You have magic,” Arthur repeated. He stared at him in disbelief. “And now your fingers have disappeared… and it’s not a bad side effect of magic?”

“Why aren’t you more upset that I just told you I was a sorcerer?” Merlin wondered, perplexed.

“I’m displeased that it has taken you this long to reveal the truth…but I’m more concerned now that your fingers are gone. And you don’t know why this is happening? What if you disappear completely? I can’t let that happen without discovering the source of this problem.”

“But my magic! All these years… I know you’ve trusted me, and I’ve let you down.”

“Merlin…your right hand is completely gone,” Arthur announced. “And as long as you’re not secretly plotting my death…”

Merlin glanced down at his right side, a small part of his mind growing increasingly afraid as he didn’t see the hand that should have been there. “I’m not! Never. I will always be loyal to you.”

“Then no matter how you much you may annoy me at times, I don’t want you to disappear. I admit I’ll miss your ridiculous face.”

“You’re insufferable,” Merlin muttered.

“I’m only focused on the more important issue at hand. If Morgana is the one making you disappear, then I want to ensure she doesn’t succeed.”

Before Merlin could say anything in response, he began to feel rather unwell. His head grew heavier and the room spun before his eyes.

“Merlin!” Arthur said sharply, a tinge of fear in his exclamation.

“Arthur…” Merlin whispered.

Despite his best effort to hold on to the wall, Merlin felt himself slipping to the ground.

And then everything went black.

* 

**Past:**

Balinor left home angry. There was no reason to stay after all. After the incident with his older sister, his father handled the situation by abandoning him.

He was fourteen and had to figure out how to fend for himself. His mum was dead, his sister gone to who knows where – and frankly, Balinor was fine with never seeing her again, and now his father had disappeared too.

If there was one thing he was certain of, he couldn’t be on his own. He didn’t much care for the idea of being alone for the rest of his life. Even the thought made him imagine a black pit of despair.

His dark thoughts were interrupted by seeing two men heading in his direction. The pair clearly was on the search for something.

Balinor quickly hid behind a tree. He had a bad feeling about those men. They looked very much like the men – dark features, thin faces, grim expressions -- who his father had a violent argument with a few years ago. His father had refused to tell him what was wrong, just that he should avoid them.

Despite his current frustration with his father, he still found it wise to follow that advice.

He got more anxious when he watched the men stop a few feet away from him, and just stand there. What if he breathed too loudly? Would they hear him?

His need to get away overcoming his caution, Balinor made a run for it.

“Hey! There’s one! He’s not at full power yet, but his energy signature doesn’t lie…”

“You can’t hide from us, boy! We know you’re the son of a Dragonlord!”

Balinor panicked as he heard the thunderous footfalls of the two strangers.

Someone from behind him clasped their hand over his mouth. Balinor felt himself being pulled inside a cave.

“Let go of me,” he demanded of the stranger as he turned swiftly around.

His captor, or perhaps, rescuer, was a boy only a few years older than him with brown hair and green eyes and a tall and thin frame. Balinor could not miss the dull metal bands encircling his wrists. Overall, he didn’t appear to be a threat.

“You’re welcome for rescuing you. It was no problem,” said the boy drily. “My name is Peter. Peter Quicksilver.”

“Balinor,” he replied. “Why did you help me?”

“It looked like you needed help,” Peter shrugged. “Do you know why those men wanted you?”

Balinor shook his head.

“I can tell you,” someone else, a female’s voice spoke. “They’re interested in your magic, in how it can be used to tame dragons.”

The owner of the voice emerged from the shadows of the cave.

Balinor stared at her, not quite hearing what she was saying. He was distracted by her, and he couldn’t deny that he found her pretty. She looked about Peter’s age, so sixteen perhaps, and she had curly red hair with bright green eyes, lighter than Peter’s.

He forcefully shook himself out of his reverie. This wasn’t the time for that.

“But I don’t have my full powers yet,” he pointed out, recalling how the one man had been aware of that. He really didn’t like that some stranger would know things about him when he had never met them. “My father is still alive. I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s not dead.”

“Those men are impatient bastards,” said Peter.

“It was good thinking on your part to stay away from them,” she told him. “They desire to use your taming magic to control more than just dragons.”

“Do you mean people?”

She nodded. “I’m Merida, by the way.”

“I’m Balinor.”

She smiled at him.

He swallowed. “Do you two live here?” Balinor asked, trying to get his mind to focus on something else than Merida.

Since she was the same age as Peter, he imagined they were together and he should just accept that. He couldn’t let himself dream the impossible – after all, he could dream all he wanted that he’d have his family back but that would never happen. His father didn’t seem to care about him enough to at least stay with him, and his sister – the way she used to be in happier times was gone. The person she was now was a stranger to him. So the only thing, the best thing, he could do is protect himself from getting hurt.

Peter made a face. “No definitely not. Who would live in a cave?”

“We were exploring. Looking for the Fountain of Youth,” Merida explained, blushing a bit like she knew how silly that sounded. “Peter and I heard it was in this cave. But we should take a break. You look done in. We should all rest and eat something…”

“You don’t really believe that? The Fountain can’t exist.”

“No, but it sounds exciting…and it’s hard not to at least have a seed of hope,” said Merida.

“It’s either that or doing boring ‘responsible’ things all day long…” Peter told him.

With that, Peter led him out of the cave and Merida walked alongside them.

Balinor hoped that he would be able to stay with them. It was his only option really at this point, and he couldn’t afford failure.

~ * ~

“How’s Merlin?” Mordred asked when he was near Arthur’s bed.

It was dark out, not long after dinnertime. Since the news that Merlin had fallen unconscious shortly before noon, Mordred was deeply worried about his friend. This was the last thing Mordred had expected to happen.

“He’s getting worse,” Arthur said. “And he’s not woken up at all.”

Mordred could see what Arthur meant. Merlin’s face was all too pale and even in slumber, he looked unhappy as if he were having a nightmare.

“I’m surprised he’s not with Gaius so he can look him over.”

“Gaius did come by to check him, but I persuaded him that Merlin should stay here. I just wonder if maybe this is partly my fault. Merlin told me about his magic. I think the stress he must have been feeling caught up to him and caused him to faint. I need to fix this, Mordred. I want to make this better.”

“I do too. But we need to figure out the source of this problem.”

“Morgana,” said Arthur in a voice of simmering anger.

“It could be her…but I think she would want him to suffer more. This seems strangely peaceful: leaving Merlin to die in his sleep?”

“There’s this too,” Arthur pointed out. He folded back the blanket covering Merlin’s right side.

Mordred was surprised to see Merlin’s right hand completely gone. It was the oddest sight Mordred had ever seen.

“I’m not sure if Morgana could do something like that, but I know one reason for it.”

“You were raised by the Druids, weren’t you?” Arthur asked him suddenly. “You have magic like Merlin? I’m not going to condemn you if you admit to it.”

“There isn’t anyone like Merlin,” Mordred only said, leaving it at that. He could see that the King had concluded that Mordred was a magic user anyway. “I remember a Druid telling me when I was a boy about this Old One…”

“Old one?” Arthur repeated, sounding incredulous.

“Yes, it’s a title – Old One,” he said, emphasizing ‘One’. “He’ll be able to cure Merlin’s condition with his ability to travel through time.”

“And how exactly will that help Merlin?”

“I think his disappearing means something has gone wrong in the past. We need to undo what has been done.”

Arthur looked at Merlin worriedly, then turned to Mordred.

“Do you know how to find this man?”

“I can seek out some Druids… I’m sure I can find him.”

“For Merlin’s sake, this Old One has to be tracked down.”

Mordred nodded. “I’ll ride out at dawn tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m glad to know we have a plan.”

Mordred squeezed Arthur’s shoulder. “Merlin will be okay. He has us watching out for him. You just have to believe we’ll succeed.”

“Thank you, Mordred. I’m just not sure what to do…between the magic ban and now Merlin’s life at stake. If we fail and Merlin never gets to see--”

“You’ll change the laws on magic and Merlin will be by your side every step of the way. Don’t lose hope.”

“He better be,” Arthur muttered under his breath, part threat, part longing.

Mordred grew even more determined to fulfill his mission tomorrow. He had to find this Old One. There was no room for failure.

*

**1951:**

Will Stanton knew something had gone wrong when a blinding headache overwhelmed him. He was being intercepted. It couldn’t have been possible, but the Dark was playing by different rules. Will had to admit he couldn’t stay ahead of them at all times. He cut his trip in time short, worried over what the Dark may do if he’d reach his intended destination.

Caution would be best now. He arrived in the past in his own reality, fifteen years before his birth. Looking around, he recognized he was in the small town of Eton, only a few miles away from his childhood home in Buckinghamshire. Relief at being in a familiar place led to a groan as he pressed his fingers to his forehead. The headache hadn’t passed.

He smiled perfunctorily at the passersby – shoppers mostly – as some had been giving him a second glance. No doubt the pain he felt was showing on his face.

Will noticed that the next shop over was his father’s, the jewellers’ shop. The shop was still open. Was his father in there?

He went into the nearby alleyway to nurse his headache, hoping it would ease. A quiet prayer in the Old Speech helped to numb the worst of the pain. He sighed, and debated whether he should return back to his present or see his parents in this past time. Stephen would have been born by now, he believed. Even if he knew it wasn’t right to treat this visit as recreational, the temptation couldn’t be denied.

Still, first and foremost, he needed to stop the Dark, and he couldn’t allow himself to get sidetracked.

The Dark had made the move of a mad man, thinking they could remove Merriman’s other self of another reality from existence. Will wasn’t sure how they had managed that. The years since the last Rising – Will paused in his thought as his mind was taken back to eighteen years ago…and now knowing that Bran and Jane were no longer alive was hard to bear. He took a deep breath, let it out, and forced himself not to dwell on the friends he lost. He’d known he would have to deal with family and friends dying while he lived as an Immortal. But not now, not when he was only thirty.

“Do you really think that you can succeed this time? You won’t, you know.”

Turning around, Will found a man with a sharp gaze. The darkness of the night obscured his appearance.

“The Dark cannot win,” Will told him plainly.

He could see that the man was under possession by the Dark. Someone who was fed sweet lies by the Dark, not knowing the unfortunate truth. Grimly, Will thought of Hawkin, and the price he paid for choosing to believe the Dark’s promises.

“I know you for who you truly are. They told me. You’re a dark sorcerer pretending to be human.”

“I am both human, and I am of the Light,” Will said firmly, retreating into his Old One identity to protect himself.

Yet as Will feared the man wasn’t listening to him. Instead, he threatened, “I will make sure to spare your parents of looking after someone as unnatural, inhuman as you.”

Alarm hit him when he saw the man pulling out a gun.

The deluded man ran out of the alley, and Will went after him. He saw his father, looking so young, younger than Will now was, leaving his shop. Will, terrified and unthinking, moved quickly with a touch of magic. He managed to get in the way of the bullet, blocking it from hitting his father.

Will threw up a magical protection around his father a moment before the bullet struck him in the shoulder. He was ready to die if he had to, this was his father after all. Even if in this time he didn’t know it.

“What in the world?!” His father, Roger Stanton, exclaimed. Some people gasped in surprise, a few screamed, others had grown pale in pure shock. A gunshot of course was the last thing any expected to hear on a calm winter evening, only weeks before Christmas.

Overcome by the penetrating pain of the bullet, Will felt faint and his legs collapsed underneath him. His father quickly rushed over to grab him before Will’s head hit the hard ground.

Will was relieved that the shooter had gone. Perhaps he had only wanted to send a message from the Dark, to unsettle him. To show that this was strike one, and maybe next time, they would make sure Will couldn’t save those he loved.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s your name?”

“Will,” He said. “Yeah, only a little pain,” he told him, giving him a reassuring smile. He imagined the pain would have been much worse if it hadn’t been in his shoulder. Either way, he was grateful his father was still living and breathing.

“I’m Roger, Roger Stanton. Do you know who shot you, Will?”

“No.”

There was a long pause as if his father didn’t know how to properly say what he wanted to.

“Thanks for --”

Will looked up at him, his head still on his lap. He squeezed his hand. Solemnly, he said, “I would do it a hundred times over.”

Then he blacked out as his mind couldn’t cope with the pain any longer.

*

Mordred saw rooks in the sky as he rode into the depths of the forest.

“If you think you can stop me, you are gravely mistaken,” said the man in the dark robes sitting astride a great black horse.

“Who are you?” Mordred demanded, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“I am the Black Rider. And the Old One you seek is unable to come. The Light will not win this battle. A defeat is not in my future, I can guarantee that.”

“I won’t let you win,” Mordred said boldly, daring in his defiance. He just couldn’t let this man succeed. He couldn’t stand the look of him.

“Try you might, but it would be a foolish attempt,” said the Black Rider softly, smiling mirthlessly.

And Mordred felt himself getting sleepy, which he knew was the Rider’s doing. He tried his best to stay awake, but he could see the man was far too powerful than he was or could ever be.

He had fallen into a trap. He felt awful. He had failed Merlin, and his King.

Those were his last thoughts before slumber gripped him unwillingly.

With a thud, he fell off his horse.

~ * ~

Arthur didn’t expect to hear a voice in his bedchambers.

The voice repeated the same words yet the owner of this mysterious voice didn’t appear.

The voice, a male one from what Arthur could discern, spoke in desperation as if he were attempting to stop an attacker, “No please, Serafina. Don’t do this. I’m still your brother, that hasn’t changed. I’m going to be a father, Sera…for my child’s sake, please, please, just don’t do this.”

Oddly, as Arthur listened to the voice again and again, he swore there was a hint of familiarity to it. Where had he heard a voice like that before?

Suddenly a person appeared, a boy of sixteen, but he didn’t pay Arthur any mind. It was like Arthur was observing a vision before his eyes.

The boy held out his hand, backing away from the unseen threat, his sister apparently. And then he turned his head toward Arthur – not looking at him but seeing through him instead – and his eyes widened before a big pile of ash remained in the spot where he had stood. Like someone had set him on fire.

Shocked, Arthur stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair by the bed in the process.

What was going on?

As he took the time to recall how the boy looked, Arthur began to realize something. He looked at Merlin – his dark hair, blue eyes, big ears, sharp cheekbones – and couldn’t help but wonder if that sixteen-year old was kin. Or what if he was Merlin’s father? There was a likeness present – while he didn’t have Merlin’s unmistakable ears and the face was a little different, a bit narrower, the similarities were hard to deny. The way he had spoken and pronounced his words echoed Merlin as Arthur recalled his voice – something he was starting to sorely miss due to Merlin’s current condition.

Arthur remembered that Dragonlord, Balinor. It was hard to match them up perfectly as the boy was young, his eyes a brilliant blue and not as weighed by the burden of years. His hair had been short and not left long due to neglect. Yet Arthur couldn’t shake the idea that these two men were one and the same. Maybe this was why the voice had seemed familiar to him?

But then, if he believed that, then this meant that Dragonlord had been Merlin’s father. And that was why…Arthur suddenly understood why Merlin reacted the way he did when Balinor died.

What a fool he had been to tell him that “no man is worth your tears.” Another secret Merlin hadn’t told him, another secret connected to his magic that he feared to tell Arthur about.

One question remained, was this younger Balinor talking about Merlin when he brought up becoming a father? Or did Merlin have a sibling perhaps Merlin himself didn’t even know about?

“I wish you were awake now,” Arthur spoke to Merlin.

Merlin remained silent and Arthur watched helplessly as Merlin’s entire right arm vanished before his eyes.

*


End file.
